


FRONT PORCH SWINGS & HOW TO BREAK THEM

by snipess



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: 90's AU, Coming of Age, High School AU, Multi, Underage smoking and drinking, a lot of bisexual energy?, senior year baby! what could go wrong?, this is a friendship thing really
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-07-31 17:16:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20118718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snipess/pseuds/snipess
Summary: The year is 1999—and for Vanitas; life is good when it's like this.He can make a mean bong out of some empty Cherry Cola cans, smoke himself into oblivion with his two best friends and then sleep for forty hours straight in between them. He knows how to throw a punch and last year he took the batteries out of the smoke alarm in the boy's bathroom. He's been thriving up until now, his senior year of high school, and why the hell shouldn't he thrive right through that, too?Well, maybe he shouldn't have asked.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> This is FRONT PORCH SWINGS & HOW TO BREAK THEM. 
> 
> A 90s Kingdom Hearts AU from me to you. It was born out of a lot of ideas, but mostly out of the idea of how much I love the Lost Trio—Vani, Repliku (called R in this fic), and Namine. But don't worry, this will be a fun time for everyone, I think. I really hope you enjoy.
> 
> As you read, please leave feedback on what you like and dislike, it helps me as an author and feeds the family! I appreciate all your support in advance. 
> 
> Please enjoy.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day before the first day of the rest of their lives.
> 
> TW: underage drug use/smoking

_FRONT PORCH SWINGS & HOW TO BREAK THEM by snipess_

  
CHAPTER ONE  
_[(listen)](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1RtCMpzgm8vN5WrMD0h72N?si=BXD-KmtMSGeqa9g-ERVcww)_

* * *

**AUGUST** ** 31ST, 1999 **

“Dude, _next._ The Offspring fucking sucks.”

“You fucking suck,” Vanitas scowled before lazily reaching for the boombox from his spot on the shredded carpet floor, long finger pressing the _next_ button down slowly. The mixtape strangled itself, sputtering helplessly from inside as it reached for the next track. A single second of a song skipped over and over, echoing throughout the boy’s ears and tugging at his brain. “Oh, for fuck’s sake—” He kicked the boombox. 

The cassette whirred for a just moment more before a familiar drum fill sounded through the musty basement. Smiling to himself, he glanced cooly across the way to a silver-haired friend, who sat up excitedly in his beanbag. The hot leather moaned beneath his weight.

“_Shit,_ she comes through every time!” R exclaimed, leaning forward to raise the volume and then pounding out the beat on his bare kneecaps, before loudly scream-singing along, “_I'm packed and I'm holding, I'm smiling, she's living, she's golden, and she lives for me, says she lives for me, ovation, her own motivation_—”

“—_she__ comes round and she goes down on me,_” Vanitas added sloppily, rolling backward to lay on the floor. 

R shot to his feet and seized a TV remote, sending its exposed batteries flying across the room and lip-syncing passionately into one end. Still basking in the pleasure of his righteous summer growth spurt, he jumped on the couch and raised his hands to dance, his fingertips just barely grazing the exposed, rotting wood beams. 

Vanitas sat up and leaned on his hands, watching amusedly and tapping his foot along and mumbling every other line. Behind him, a feminine voice suddenly drifted from the staircase to join them at the chorus. 

“_I want something else, to get me through this, semi-charmed kind of life_—” She pointed at the silver-haired boy dramatically from her spot halfway down the steps, “_baby_!”

“_Baby _!” R shouted back, pointing at the blonde as she bounded down the rest of the steps. Namine twirled carelessly and danced towards Vanitas, holding out colorful, paint-stained palms to him excitedly. 

Vanitas glanced at her hands and rolled his eyes, but grabbed one out of something that could only be called habit. As she lifted him off the floor, he spun her unenthusiastically and then let go, shifting his weight between his feet just a bit to somewhat simulate the best kind of dance he could. “_I want something else,_” he sang quietly, “_I__'m not listening when you say_—”

“_Goodbyeeee!_” The two other voices collided into an unruly harmony, one that quickly dismantled into scattered laughter. Vanitas’s smile faded into its usual tight-lipped smug, and he sunk back to the floor, lowering the volume on the boombox as Namine shed her backpack from her shoulder. It clattered to the floor as the music began to dwindle, and R returned to his place in the beanbag. She settled between the two boys, tucking her legs beneath her and humming quietly. She sighed contently.  
  
Things were good when they were like this.

“You’re early,” R noted, watching as Namine began to rummage through her bag. 

“Did the old man let you in?” Vanitas asked, following a bug with cat-like eyes as it darted between ceiling beams.

“Nah,” Namine said, pulling out a bag and balancing it delicately on her knee. The two boys eyed it with anticipation. “Door was open and I thought I smelled some scrubs… so I figured you two were down here.” 

Vanitas rolled his eyes and scoffed. R just laughed. Things were _really_ good like this. 

They had spent the past couple sweltering months creating a routine that was just now starting to feel so perfect. Almost every day they met on the same discolored carpet, tugging at its loose strings while sitting in the same positions, sharing the same bag of weed until it ran dry and they had to pool their dollar bills into a sad pile and send Namine to buy it cheap off her older brother. Marly grew it inside his own room, and it was pretty trash that he didn’t just give it to them for free—but it was better than nothing. 

And so they smoked pot until they couldn’t walk and listened to the boombox, constantly trading one worn-out cassette for another. Vanitas had shown Namine how to make mixtapes some time at the beginning of the year and she hadn’t been able to stop, and so the two boys were kindly gifted with one every other week. Even if they didn’t love it completely—because R thought The Offspring sucked and Vanitas couldn’t care less for Jimmy Eat World—they still listened to them until their ears bled. It was just what they did.

But today was sad and different; the eve of their senior year of high school. The last day before the first day of the rest of their lives, or at least, that’s what it was in all the movies. 

Namine held a blunt delicately between her fingers, raising it into the air. “Well boys, to our last day of sweet, _ sweet _ freedom!” Behind her solemn words, a Green Day b-side rattled the boombox. 

R groaned and Vanitas just nodded, equally dismayed but always too collected to show it. R knocked his blunt against Namine’s while Vanitas leaned down toward his makeshift bong—haphazardly crafted from two old Cherry Colas and some tinfoil. The basement became a few degrees warmer as they smoked themselves into oblivion. 

The three of them kept to themselves mostly for some time, occasionally giggling at each other or coughing or asking someone to change the song or hand over the bottle of water. At some point, they had made it back to the beginning of Namine’s newest mixtape, and she yawned and held the plastic bottle in front of her face, swinging it back and forth and watching the last bit of water slosh at the bottom. She groaned loudly. “This blows.”

Vanitas coughed, eyes pink and droopy. “What?” 

“Summer’s over, dumbass,” R added. “It totally blows.” 

“Oh, yeah,” Vanitas said slowly. He looked at the small window across the room, eyeing the dust particles that swayed and flew in the diminishing sunlight. “Yeah.”

“He’s gone,” Namine tsked, shaking her head. 

“That was quick,” R sighed. 

“Fuck off,” Vanitas groaned, letting himself fall backward. He stretched his legs out, ankles intertwining with R’s. The other boy kicked at his feet before giving up quickly, letting Vanitas’s ankles rest on his. Vanitas watched the ceiling again with narrowed eyes, ignoring the pinch of hunger in his stomach as he tuned in and out of the conversation.

“What’re we gonna do every day now that school’s in the way?” Namine sighed, glancing at Vanitas. “Don’t fall asleep, doofus.”

“M’not.” 

“He is,” R deadpanned. “And don’t worry about it, Nams. It’s senior year—all we really gotta do is show up and we pass.”

Namine grimaced. “Guess you’re right. Still, it’s gonna stink not seeing each other all the time.” 

“Who says we won’t?” R said. He watched as Namine searched her pockets and wrist for a hair-tie, detangling one from one of his silver braids and holding it out for her. She thanked him softly and took it, pulling her blonde locks into a thick, low ponytail. She let it rest on her shoulder and then puffed her cheeks, shrugging. 

“I dunno. It just _ feels _ sad.”

Vanitas took that moment to look at her sadly. It had taken him a few years, but even he had to admit—and he really didn’t like to—that he had grown pretty fond of them and their hangs. It had always been lonely around the house with just him and ‘Nort, the old faceache that had adopted him probably as a sick dare, and with Nams and R, everything felt just a bit more normal. Despite the hiccups, Vanitas had a lot to owe to his best friends, if not everything. The thought of the beginning of the end of their time together was unsettling, at best. He stared at her and then at R, who was pulling the knots from his hair with his sweaty fingers, wincing. He watched as his hands rotated in and out his silver mane. In and out, in and out, smoothing out each strand with every revolution._ In and out, up and down._ The music from the boombox warped into a startingly moment of white noise, until Namine sat straight forward, eyes widening. 

“Do you hear that?” 

Vanitas blinked from his trance, shaking his head and smacking his cheeks lightly. “Huh?” 

R stopped brushing his hair and glanced at the staircase, scrunching his nose. “Is that the doorbell?” 

“The _ doorbell _?” Vanitas repeated, disgusted. Nobody rang doorbells around here. He forced his brain to focus through the smog, listening intently. Alanis Morisette yowled from the boombox. He focused harder, wearily stumbling to his feet. Just slightly above it all, the doorbell buzzed upstairs. It stopped. And then started, and then went again and again and again, until each buzz was overlapping the other in pure chaos. “What the fuck?” 

Vanitas walked toward the stairs slowly, dragging his feet across the floor like weights. He stopped at the bottom step, frowning deeply. “Hey, pops!” He shouted. “The fucking door!” 

There was no reply, of course, and R snorted, nearly spitting out the last slurp of water. He coughed after swallowing too hard and wrong, and Namine giggled into her hand. The doorbell buzzed again, this time longer. It sounded almost desperate. Upset, even. Vanitas groaned. "Fuck me."

“Go get it, Vani, we’ll hold down the fort,” Namine laughed. 

R chucked the empty water bottle across the room. “Could you fill this while you’re at it?” 

Vanitas glared at him and opened his mouth to say something before the doorbell rang once more. This time, a raucous flurry of knocks followed it. “What is their fucking deal,” he muttered under his breath, grabbing the bottle and storming up the stairs. Behind him, the boombox started to skip again. He crushed the plastic in his fist, clenching his teeth. 

His annoyance had granted him a moment of clarity, but when he reached the top of the stairs, he stood there dizzily longer than he planned. He had almost even forgotten what he’d come up for before another round of knocks assaulted the front door. Vanitas tossed the empty bottle across the kitchen, watching it land in the sink with a clatter. He listened intently for any sign of his old man before narrowing his eyes at the door, just barely noticing a skinny arm swinging by outside the dirty window. 

Vanitas focused on walking, one foot stepping in front of the other. It was brutal, really, and the whole world seemed to be pushing up against him. He almost verbally rejoiced when he reached the door, holding on to the handle for dear life. He leaned against the door for a second, jumping as the knocks sounded directly against his ear. He snarled. “Who the fu—”

He swung the door open, face-to-face with a wide-eyed, spiky-haired brunet, short and thin in a pair of light-wash overalls, one strap hanging loosely off of his shoulder to reveal a bright, striped shirt. Under one arm, he held a neon yellow bike helmet sturdily against his hip, and in his other hand, a stack of papers was clenched nervously in his fist. And Vanitas might have been too high—but he thought the kid looked almost exactly like _him_. 

“Uh…” 

“Ohmigod,” the boy breathed, “it’s really you.” 

“Huh?” Vanitas stared at him, shifting his weight. “I don’t have time for this shit. Quit bugging.”

“Vanitas?” The name came out of the other boy’s mouth almost like pure vomit. He shook as he said it, rising to stand on the tips of his mud-stained chucks excitedly. “I can’t believe it. I’ve been looking everywhere for you! This is… this is—” 

“Who are you?” Vanitas said slowly. His mind felt like it was going to explode. The sun beamed down at him and began to burn through his black jeans.

“Oh! Ohmigod, I’m so sorry!” The boy’s feet came flat together and his back straightened. He offered a wide, toothy smile. His teeth were too big for his mouth. His smile too big for his face. His freckles twisted and stretched beneath the smile lines around his lips and eyes. He gave a small wave with his stack of papers. “I’m Sora!”

“Okay?” Vanitas growled. “And fucking what?” 

“And, well,” Sora laughed so loud it nearly knocked them both of their feet. “I’m your brother.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments of any kind feed me and my family! Please always let an author know you like their work or what they could do to improve it! We appreciate it so much! Thank you. 
> 
> See you in the next chapter.


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sun sets on the last day of summer.
> 
> TW: drugs, eye injury, implied physical abuse of a child, verbal abuse

_ FRONT PORCH SWINGS & HOW TO BREAK THEM by snipess _

  
CHAPTER TWO  
_[(listen)](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1RtCMpzgm8vN5WrMD0h72N?si=PZedtxxgQdq9105wmAHcoA)_

* * *

“Who was that?” 

Vanitas stopped cold in the middle of the staircase, mouth ajar and hands shaking slightly. He stared ahead at the exposed insulation across the room, pink and peeling like flesh, and just shook his head. It felt like half of his mind was racing and the other half was getting ready for bed. “Uh…” 

“Vanitaaaas,” Namine laughed, abandoning her spot on the floor and rushing to meet him halfway up the stairs. She tapped his forehead a few times with gentle, warm fingers and watched him curiously. “Are you in there?” He looked at her, gaze empty and glossed over, and she grabbed his shoulders to shake him just enough. As his trance subsided, she led him down the stairs with famously kind hands. “Who was at the door?” 

“Oh,” Vanitas said slowly, struggling to think back to just moments ago—back to the few seemingly_ year-long_ minutes he had spent staring in disbelief at his front door after he had slammed it shut and locked it on the boy on the front porch steps. “Uh. I think it was just some lousy prank. There was no one there.” 

“Lame. Who even ding-dong ditches anymore?” R groaned, yawning. “Did you get the water?” 

Vanitas let go of Namine’s hand and settled back to the floor cautiously, shaking his head. “Sorry. Forgot.” 

R narrowed his striking blue eyes and leaned forward, smirking. “You look so wacky. What’s going on with you today?” He crawled off of the beanbag and started towards Vanitas on his hands and knees, hair all strewn over his face and shoulders hunched menacingly. He pushed his nose teasingly against his friend’s. “Vaaaani, come back to us!”   
  
Vanitas snarled and then shoved the boy away, knocking him on to the floor with a firm _ whomp _. “That’s what you get, being all stupid like that,” he grumbled. Of course, he knew better than to expect an easy fight, but R retaliated quicker than he assumed, shooting up to land a solid blow to the side of the other boy’s head. Vanitas's brain rocked about in his skull for a moment, before he moved to launch from his sitting position, tackling R to the floor and pinning him down by his wrists for a momentary victory. R laughed heartily before kicking frantically at Vanitas’s stomach, sending him flying off quicker than he had even gotten on. The two boys tousled like this for a few more long minutes, tugging at each other’s hair and biting down hard on their arms and burning their bare knees on the carpet. Namine watched on, not nearly as likely to get caught up in their roughhousing, and waited for them to stop. It usually did—but not ever without a casualty. 

This time it was R who got the shit end of the stick, colliding face-first into the exposed, wooden corner of the couch and yowling as it jabbed into his eye. He reared back suddenly, hands pressed hard against his swollen face and tears rolling down his cheeks like ice-cream in the summer sun. “Damnit,” he moaned, kicking away at Vanitas who ceremoniously bowed out. He snickered.

“Nams, what’s that make it?” Vanitas asked, glancing at her. She thought for a moment, finger pressed against her chin.

"Hmm… R, 109. Vani, that’s 112.” 

Simultaneously, R groaned and Vanitas cheered. “Yeah, baby! Still leading the way!” They were all pretty sure that Namine had lost count of their skirmishes at some point last year, but they always liked to ask anyway. It wouldn't surprise either of the boys if she really did remember things like that. 

“Not fair,” R muttered. “I got jacked by some lousy furniture.” His tears came to an abrupt stop in an effort to appear brave, and he as dropped his hand from his face, Namine gasped. His right eye was nearly unrecognizable beneath all the redness and swelling. "Awuh, that bad?”

“Don’t worry,” Vanitas interjected. “You get to start senior year with a gnarly shiner, and we'll just tell everyone how bad the other guy looks. Deal?” 

“Deal,” R agreed begrudgingly, wobbling up to his feet. “But fuck. This hurts.” 

“You gotta ice it, moron,” Namine said, teasing him with an undeniable tinge of concern. She stood up to reach for him and wrap a comforting arm around him. R smiled softly and leaned into her touch, settling a cheek lazily on her shoulder and sighing. “I guess we should be heading back, yeah?” 

Vanitas frowned. That didn't sound right. “What? You guys just got here.” He suddenly felt like boarding up all the windows and locking up all the doors. It really didn’t feel right to be saying goodbye right then and there.

“It’s almost time for dinner!” Namine exclaimed. “My parents would kill me if I wasn’t back before then… and on a _ school night _,” she added the fated words with distaste. Looking heavy on her shoulder, R muttered something sad and angry under his breath. Namine brushed some of the hair out of his face and lifted his chin matter-of-factly to examine his eye. “But I’ll stop by R’s first and make sure he gets this taken care of.”

Vanitas reached for them tentatively, arms stretched far in front of himself. They dropped down sadly as the realization settled over him. He knew the fall and school came around every year, but it didn't make it any easier to deal with. Being used to things doesn't mean enjoying them. “I guess you’re right,” he admitted. “Be safe out there, I guess.” 

“Yeah, wouldn’t wanna run into any ding-dong ditchers!” R laughed, sending unexpected chills down Vanitas’s spine. He thought back to the smiling face he had left stranded on the front porch, arms outstretched and eyes glittering, ominous papers tight in his fist. Vanitas laughed nervously with his friend and then glanced at the ceiling, watching nothing in particular. Why did he feel so sick all of a sudden?

Before he could say anything, both Namine and R had wrapped themselves around him in an uncomfortable but somehow perfectly skewed king of a hug. Vanitas smiled and nestled into their touch. It was a strange warmth that nothing could ever beat, not even if it tried. Namine hesitantly pulled away first, untangling herself to pull R along, and swooping down skillfully to pick up her bag without letting him go. Vanitas followed them up the stairs, stopping only at the top to watch the front door nervously. Would the boy still be there, buzzing away at the doorbell on his tiptoes and laughing all goofy? 

Nobody was there. Maybe he _had _imagined him. 

“So I guess lunch tomorrow… same place as always?” Namine tried, pulling Vanitas from his thoughts. She stood there waiting, smiling expectantly from her place on the steps. 

“Yeah. See you then, Nams. R.” He held out a fist, which R met excitedly with his own, laughing as their knuckles exploded into a small flurry of finger-wiggles together. R winced suddenly, returning his hand to his throbbing face and offering a sheepish smile Vanitas’s way. Vanitas began to smile back when his eyes started to drift behind his two friends, nervously settling on a familiar mess of brown hair on the curb across the street. The boy—Sora—sat next to a rusted bicycle, spinning its front wheel with his head cast down. He chewed thoughtfully on a chain necklace, and as if by some uncontrollable universe coaxing, he slowly looked up, eyes peering through long bangs and seeing Vanitas. The necklace fell from his teeth and back to his chest, but his eyes never left the other boy. He tried to smile.

Vanitas narrowed his eyes and avoided the chill in his bones. He looked away quickly and back to his friends, who had been too busy fretting about R's eye to notice Vanitas's distance. R had given up on holding his eye, leaving Namine to press her palm against it sternly. “Anyway,” he coughed. “Tomorrow.” 

“Tomorrow,” the two repeated, nodding. When they left, they turned as one unit, heading back home and towards the setting sun, arms intertwined and feet tripping over each other clumsily. As they walked by the boy with the bike, Vanitas's heart raced—but they paid no mind, whispering and laughing together as they always did. Sora looked at them and he watched with wide, glittering eyes. He glanced back down at his feet for a pensive moment and then pulled himself up with the bicycle, throwing a leg over the seat and then staring straight back at Vanitas. He looked as if he was going to say something, but Vanitas wouldn't dare give him the chance. 

Sora wasn't there. Just as long as Vanitas pretended he wasn't.

Vanitas furrowed his eyebrows and then backed into his house, hand tightening its grip around the handle. He wanted to scream. He shut the door. 

* * *

Vanitas soon found himself leaning against the doorframe of his father’s room, careful not step in quite yet, half of his face shrouded in its darkness. He stood there, arms crossed and foot tapping impatiently, and listened intently for a snore from the old man’s still figure but heard nothing. He narrowed his eyes, rapping the doorframe hard with his boney knuckles. “Hey.”

Silence. 

“_Hey,_" he spat. “Gramps, I know you can hear me. You’re not deaf yet.” 

“Oh, _son,_” the tired voice came from somewhere far within the room, like some sort of haunting screech from a deep, wet cave. Somewhere in the shadows, his body shifted and he sat up, leaning against his headboard with a sigh. “Didn’t know you were home."

“Been home,” Vanitas said, turning the light on with a swift flick of his finger and finally stepping into the room. He made sure to keep the door open—for easy access, of course; it wasn't often he entered the man's room without intending to eventually escape. He leaned cooly against the wall and crossed his arms, staring the man down. The man, at this point, was basically just skin and bones and a sad collection of wispy gray hairs on a long chin. Xehanort—’Nort, pops, whatever—was the kind of man who _looked_ like he could tell loads of good stories, but all he really had was a big, rude mouth. 

He'd adopted Vanitas so long ago that the boy didn't know any different. He didn't know anything else; just the cold stares and words and hands of a caretaker who was more temper than human.

Vanitas hated him. 

“Any reason you’re in my room?” 

“Well, it seems a bit early for bed,” Vanitas said. “And before we even have dinner?”

“I had dinner,” the man drawled. Vanitas hated his voice so much; it was all the sharpness of nails on a chalkboard, the annoyance of broken cassettes and the pitiful wheeziness of an empty can of whipped cream. “You can feed yourself. Your legs and arms still work don’t they?” 

Vanitas didn’t grant him the pleasure of acknowledging the question. He just scoffed and looked away, looking out the window for a moment to watch the day settle into night. It had been starting to get dark much quicker than before. The days had been growing shorter and the nights longer without him even noticing. But he noticed now. He turned to the man in the bed sharply, tongue on fire. “When were you going to tell me that I had a brother?” 

Xehanort’s eyes widened just for a moment, but the look fell apart as quickly as it arrived, and his face drooped back into a smug look that he had somehow managed to pass on to Vanitas. He began to laugh, eerily and slowly, tugging at every bit of patience his son had left. Nobody knew Vanitas’s buttons and how to press them better than he did, and it drove the boy crazy. “So I see. It’s just your brain that doesn’t work.”

“Don’t be funny,” Vanitas growled. “You’re not funny.” 

“Neither are you, Vanitas!” Xehanort grunted as he stood from his bed. He started towards the boy at a slow but deliberate pace, sunken amber eyes tired with frustration. “Do you even hear yourself? What would give you a stupid idea like that?” 

“Oh, I don’t know,” Vanitas left his place on the wall and broadened his shoulders defensively. “Maybe the twerp that rolled up to our front porch today with some papers and a mug that looked a whole lot like mine." The all-too-familiar face flashed in his brain once more. More freckles than Vanitas. Rounder eyes, maybe. But the same.

Xehanort stared at him, smile faltering out to a thin grimace. 

“So what’s the deal with that, huh, _daddy-o_?” 

The man shook his head and walked close to Vanitas. His height was much more intimidating up close, but Vanitas had never been one to back down—another one of the eerie traits he’d somehow managed to snag from the old man. Xehanort was hunched over and relaxed, staring down Vanitas’s battle stance with pity and admiration. They both knew he had raised a fighter by constantly picking fights. All sorts of them. But this was one he wasn’t willing to have right now, and he just chuckled and took a long, deep breath, nostrils flaring. He smirked. 

“You’re stoned,” he said slowly. 

Vanitas tsked and backed up.

“You imagined it,” the man continued. “Maybe clean yourself up before you approach me with such nonsense.” 

“You’re not answering the question!” Vanitas snapped. He was practically bristling now, balling his fists up and stomping his feet, twisting them angrily into the carpet. "Xehanort!"

The man reached forward and shoved Vanitas like he was a mere fly, just enough to upset his balance and send him stumbling out of the door and into the thin, darkening hallway. “I don’t answer stupid questions,” he said simply, pushing past the smaller boy and heading towards the backyard. He had always had a habit of disappearing there when Vanitas needed him most, chewing tobacco and rocking in a plastic chair covered in dead bugs and mud. “Goodnight, Vanitas.” 

With that and not a thing more, he let himself out the door, slamming it with telling vitriol. Vanitas had upset him like he always seemed to do. Defeated, the boy stood in the middle of the hall, scrambling to collect his thoughts as the dust settled between them. “Dad,” he croaked out, knowing it was fruitless but not caring enough to stop. “My senior year starts tomorrow,” he continued, words meeting a closed-door and bouncing back to his chest like a vicious boomerang. “And I need to take the car. I can’t take the bus. I’m too old for that now.” 

The hall was filled with sorrow. He took a deep breath.

“Goodnight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments of any kind feed me and my family! Please always let an author know you like their work or what they could do to improve it! We appreciate it so much! Thank you. 
> 
> See you in the next chapter.


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet the senior class of RGHS. They're a mess.
> 
> TW: blood, bullying, mention of the apocalypse

_ FRONT PORCH SWINGS & HOW TO BREAK THEM by snipess _

CHAPTER THREE  
_[(listen)  
](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1RtCMpzgm8vN5WrMD0h72N?si=-YPGg3CJSgSgX5kmTdK09A)_

* * *

**SEPTEMBER 1ST, 1999**

The front row of the parking lot was for seniors only. 

And maybe it was stupid—no, it _ definitely _ was stupid—but Vanitas didn’t even try to pacify the pride that swelled in his chest as he pulled into his very own parking spot. It was a spot that had been waiting for him for years now, snugged up against the curb and underneath the shade of a stubborn oak tree, and he finally got to claim it as his own. And he was glad to make it there alive, especially since he was driving ‘Nort’s rusted ticking timebomb from ‘93. It always wheezed and sputtered like it was one day away from collapsing.

Vanitas sat there for a moment, the old car rumbling beneath him and his hands tight around the wheel. Ahead of him, the front stairs into the school were abuzz with cheerleaders and some enthusiastic staff members, half-heartedly waving and smiling to teenagers who wouldn't even think to give them the time of day, let alone some school spirit. At the very bottom of the stairs, Principal Ansem stood waving with a smile so fake you could smell the burning hot glue that held it directly onto his face. Vanitas scoffed.

Two years ago, Radiant Garden High School had been honored with some fancy-schmancy award for being the top school in their region, both in education and extracurriculars. There was a small ceremony and Principal Ansem got a custom plaque, a local news interview, and some short-lived hometown fame. Apparently, it had been a real big deal. 

And then last year, after they'd been told they couldn't play with low grades, the football team started a huge bonfire in the front parking lot, throwing their failed tests and unfinished homework into the flames as some sort of obnoxious protest. When Principal Ansem finally showed up at the scene the stop the madness, the whole team launched six dozen eggs at him and then threw his plaque into the fire. 

It had been a rough past year.

Vanitas finally turned off the car and stepped out, immediately regretting his decision as he felt the sun ruthlessly burn down on him. Just thinking about the humid classrooms and sticky desks and chairs made him want to die. And yet, throwing his backpack over his shoulder, he sighed and stepped on to the curb, black platform boots smacking the concrete heavily. He narrowed his eyes on the crowd ahead of him.

A few cheerleaders held out a big, handmade banner, with the words _ WELCOME BACK, RAMS! _painted in their signature colors of green and black, shouting cheers that were either incomprehensible or so unimportant that Vanitas’s brain didn’t even bother to process them. Either way, he watched them dance and shout for a moment before his gaze rested on their spunky captain, all red hair and freckles and fire in her belly.

It was Kairi, of course, routinely dressed up in her short skirt and cropped shirt, a green pom-pom in each hand and a dazzling smile on quick command. She was pretty much perfect; unbelievably friendly, smart and athletic, she was Radiant Garden’s golden girl. 

Naturally, Vanitas hated her.

And by some cosmic want for chaos or unlucky fate, she bounded right up to him, hips swaying to nothing in particular. She must’ve had music in that head of hers. “Vanitas!” She cheered. “How was your summer?”

Vanitas looked at her, nose crinkled, and rolled his eyes, tightening his grip on the strap of his bag and speed-walking past her. It was bad enough that the school was so small that she knew his name, she had to go on and _ use _ it, too. He beelined for the entrance. 

But Kairi was almost frighteningly quick, chasing after him on the toes of her tennis shoes and stopping him even before he could reach the steps. “You know, I think it’s gonna be a great year for us. We’re seniors now, you know.”

“I know.”

Kairi smiled. “So you do talk.”

Vanitas scowled. “Not to you," he said, stepping around her quickly. She gave a dramatic sigh and placed her pom-poms on her jutted hips, reluctantly staying in place and watching him go with a twisted brow.

“You know!” Kairi shouted, voice just barely rising over the high school chaos. “Maybe you should try out for the soccer team this year! I hear you’ve got a wicked kick!”

Vanitas scoffed to himself, narrowing his sights on the front entrance and rushing up the stairs. Of course, Kairi _ knew _ he had a wicked kick; she was best friends with Riku. And Vanitas nearly broke one of Riku's ribs last year with that wicked kick. He smirked to himself as he slid fast between a closing door and through the entrance. 

Vanitas was actually grateful to make it inside the school. It was surprisingly quieter, as most students were taking the time they could before homeroom to soak in the sun outside and mingle in the fresh air. Vanitas, however, had an affinity for the cool darkness of Radiant Garden’s halls, and as he walked down them, he felt familiar shoulders press against each of his own.

“Look at you! You showed up,” Namine laughed, not bothering to turn toward him. She bumped his backpack teasingly with her own. 

“You owe me a whole damn dollar, Nams,” R exclaimed from Vanitas’s other side. He reached behind Vanitas’s back and flicked her hard on the ear. Namine barely even noticed it, and instead grabbed Vanitas’s hand. Like clockwork, Vanitas squeezed her hand and then moved to drape an arm lazily over R’s shoulders. 

They walked almost proudly down the hall, connected and impenetrable with small grins on each of their tired faces. They’d been walking down these halls like this for years now, and even though it was the last year that they would, it still felt like the first. After all three of them had spent their middle school years wandering alone, even the faintest trace of loyalty and companionship was worth something. 

Vanitas hummed, eyes boring holes into the backs of drab looking students standing at discolored lockers and drinking from rusted water fountains. “How does one place stay the same for so damn long?” 

“Some awful boring voodoo,” R said, shifting beneath the weight of Vanitas’s arm. “This place is like perpetual cornflakes.”

“_ Perpetual _!” Namine teased. “Nice.”

“Would you can it over there?” R groaned. “I’m taking Advanced Lit this year, you know.” He leaned forward to look past Vanitas and flash a winning, full-toothed smile at Namine. Between a thin-lipped but kind smirk, she stuck her tongue out at him. 

Vanitas remained stoic as the two bickered, but kept his arms and hands on them tightly. They were a sight to see. R's long silver hair had been pulled up into a bun, his bangs just wild and free enough to curtain the hefty black eye on his face. Namine had wrapped herself in a sweater despite the heat, paired with some jean shorts that exposed the bandaids stuck all over her scraped knees. They were idiots. But they were his best friends. Which is why he felt so empty when R suddenly slid away from under his arm and toward a row of lockers, skidding the group to a halt. “Sorry,” he said, “I just wanted to put som—”

The hallway suddenly grew louder and smaller, and the trio of friends found themselves squished up against the lockers and each other. Vanitas narrowed his eyes, focusing in on the large group of students that were rowdily pushing and shoving their way through the middle of the hallway. It’s not that he really _ needed _to look. He already knew what it was.

“RIKU!” A voice came from the middle of the clump. “_ Homie _. How was your summer?” It was Hayner’s dirty rotten voice, practically dripping in toxicity. “Ready to win big this year!?” It was less of a question and more of a battle cry, to which the whole Radiant Garden High School soccer team answered with a variety of annoying whoops and cheers.

At the front of the group was, as expected, _ Riku _. He had been the star soccer player for the school’s team since his sophomore year. They almost never lost a game if Riku had anything to do with it; and last year, after pummelling Twilight Town’s winning streak, a small makeshift shrine had popped up in the boy’s bathroom, complete with his yearbook picture and an array of candles. Someone had even gifted the weird monument the answers to the Chemistry final. Riku, by all means, was considered a God in those halls.

He was also R’s shitty twin brother.

The two had always been pretty much identical, until last summer when Riku decided to cut most of his hair off and grow just enough inches in height to piss R off. And Riku was athletic, calm, and popular beyond his parent's wildest dreams. He was practically perfect. And so, they hated each other, or maybe R just hated him. But either way, it was enough for Riku to be on Vanitas’s bad side, too, and as much of a bad side that Namine’s pure heart could muster. R was the one who was there for them, after all, and they didn’t care one bit about the school’s championship titles. 

“Why is he so fucking obnoxious?” R growled, turning to face his locker and swing it open so that it slammed loudly against the rest of them. Vanitas jumped slightly, and Namine just frowned. “After this year, I’m going so far away from here and_ him _… you’ll see.”

“I just don’t get why he needs the whole team to follow him everywhere,” Namine said, rubbing R’s back comfortingly. She glanced worriedly as the team sauntered by. Sure enough, Riku was at the front, hands in his pockets and jaw still and tight. He was calm, with his shoulders back and his hips forward, backpack hanging loosely off of him. He looked to the side and deliberately slowed his pace, eyes catching Vanitas. 

Vanitas bared his teeth and took a threatening step forward, clenching his fist. 

“Vani,” Namine whispered, grabbing his wrist. “He didn’t do anything.” Her eyes were worried and shining, one hand comforting R and the other restraining Vanitas. Vanitas never really liked to see her like this, and he wasn’t one to lose it so easily either, so he stepped back and pulled his wrist away, sighing in defeat. 

Riku smirked and nodded knowingly at Namine before pressing his lips forward to whistle. As he walked away, his loyal teammates followed, and the first bell of the school year rang loudly. It was time. 

“Damnit!” R exclaimed, slamming his locker shut. “I hate this place.” 

Namine sighed and rested her chin on R’s shoulder, pouting deeply and holding out a sad hand to Vanitas. She wiggled her fingers playfully. He gave her hands to hers and she squeezed it reassuringly. “I’ll see you boys later?” 

“You can count on it,” R said. 

“Yeah,” Vanitas agreed. “Lunchtime. But don’t be a stranger if you see us beforehand.”

Namine smiled and nodded, pressing a friendly kiss to R’s temple before bounding away. R watched her go with a grin and then turned to Vanitas, teeth bared in a silly grin. “You want a kiss, too?” He teased.

Vanitas rolled his eyes but chuckled softly. “From you?” He took a step forward and leaned close, just slightly hunching over to meet R’s eyes. “Thought you’d never ask.” Neither of them wavered as the other moved in close, noses touching just barely. At the last moment, Vanitas launched a wad a spit onto the other boy’s face, sending him stumbling backward. 

R groaned and wiped the spit from his cheek, looking at his slobbery fingers with disgust. Vanitas was doubled over with laughter, tears prickling at his eyes. “Oh, yeah!” R exclaimed. “Har-dee-har.” He landed a sharp, quick kick to Vanitas’s shins before bounding off, waving back at him with a playful sneer.

Vanitas cursed under his breath as he rubbed his shin. But he was smiling.

* * *

When Vanitas finally got to homeroom, he had to admit that he was a little glad to see all the familiar faces he had grown used to over the years. Homeroom had always been, more or less, organized by last name, so he’d learned to tolerate the people he spent the first half-hour or so of the day with. It was strange, though; they were so grown up now, all of them, in their big pants and short skirts. Some had grown out their hair and others had cut it short. Some had gained weight and others had lost it. But they all had the same faces and eyes and young souls, and that was enough to keep Vanitas at ease. 

Vanitas walked slowly over to the second row of desks, three desks in. He sat down slowly and put his bag on the desktop, leaning down to rest his head on it. A familiar face from beside him whipped around excitedly, cheeks rosy as ever and eyes wild with enthusiasm.

“Hey, Vanitas,” he said, dimples popping as he smiled wide. “Looks like we’re homeroom buddies again!” 

“You say that every year,” Vanitas mumbled, annoyed, but looked at him nonetheless. There was no point in avoiding the inevitable. And Ephemer was inevitable.

Ephemer had been Vanitas’s next-desk neighbor since middle school, always winding up on either side of him every year. He was soft-faced and fluffy-haired, and always wore scarves despite the weather. Over time he had lost the glasses from his younger years and grown a bit more into his chubby cheeks, but not too much. He was kind, if not a little too kind, and particularly nervous. Especially recently. “It’s sad that this is our last year together, huh?”

Vanitas shrugged, drawing mindlessly with his finger on the desk. “Guess so.” 

“I mean, you could say it’s our last couple months together,” Ephemer said, voice darkening. He leaned down to lay on his desk so he was face to face with Vanitas. He smiled calmly, despite the fact his words sent an unexpected chill down Vanitas’s spine.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Vanitas decided to amuse him because nothing else was going on, and it was getting too hot in the classroom to just sit there and take it. 

Ephemer looked elated that Vanitas had decided to prod, and then grabbed his desk excitedly, loudly clamoring as he moved it to press against Vanitas’s. His chair screamed loudly as he dragged it across the floor and then hopped on to it, knees pulled to his chest. “I heard,” he whispered, looking around with his old-soul type blue eyes, faded and kind, “that on New Year’s Day—you know, the first day of the year _2000_—the world is gonna get cashed for good.”

“Get cashed?” Vanitas raised a thin, dark eyebrow and sighed loudly. 

“Ka-boom, Vani,” Ephemer whispered, making an explosion gesture with his hands. “It’s all over for us. The new age is gonna kill us.”

Vanitas had never really pinned Ephemer as a weird conspiracy theorist, but his anxiety did make him an easy target. Regardless, he rolled his eyes and turned away from the other boy. “Where’d you hear junk like that?” 

Ephemer shrugged. “The internet.” 

“You’re an idiot,” Vanitas hissed. “The world’s not ending, Ephemer. We’re not that lucky.” 

“Well, what do you think is gonna happen?” Ephemer said, lower lip dangerously close to quivering. The edge in his voice was a bit too much for Vanitas to handle. “We’ve never seen the calendar change like that.”

“The same thing that happens every year,” Vanitas replied. “I’m gonna get throwed at Axel’s place and crash on his futon.” 

Ephemer puffed his cheeks and grumbled something under his breath, folding his arms on his desk and burying his face in the crooks of his elbows. His red scarf fell over his face and muffled his next words. “I hope we don’t die.” Beneath his desk, his left foot tapped the tile nervously.

Vanitas just sighed and turned his eyes lazily towards the clock. It was going to be a long, long year. 

* * *

A few hours into the day and Vanitas had already been spent. He didn’t know how many more ice-breakers he could mumble through with kids he’d known since he could walk, and he had rolled his eyes so much they felt like they were about to pop out of his skull. In between class, he took the chance to stop at his locker and stick his head inside, letting the cool darkness enclose him. He groaned. 

Vanitas nearly screamed as he felt legs wrap around his waist and arms around his shoulders, a familiar weight leaping on to his back and laughing into his ear. “Found ya! And before lunchtime,” it was Namine’s voice, soothing and pitched high with joy. Vanitas chuckled and pulled himself out of his locker, leaning back to let her slide off his back.

“Lucky me,” Vanitas teased. 

Namine was about to retort when R ran up to them, skidding to a stop on his heels and breathing heavily. Before he could greet them, Namine pat his head reassuringly. The three of them were together again, no matter how fleeting the moment was, and that was enough for them.

“You know,” R huffed. “I think it’s already been a long day. Whaddya say we bust?” 

Namine narrowed her eyes. “R! You can’t really be so lazy.” 

“No, no,” Vanitas said, waving a hand. “He can.” Namine laughed.  
  
“Whatever,” R leaned against the lockers and crossed his arms over his chest, watching the crowd of students as some of them hurried to their next class and others chatted about in clumps or fixed their faces in tiny mirrors in their lockers. It was all so eerily mundane and predictable. And as an unwelcome voice wafted in his direction, he turned to face it angrily.

“That there is one of our science labs, I guess,” it was Riku, arm extended past the face of some short brunet, pointing at a classroom. “I dunno, though. I dropped science junior year.” He dropped his arm and the boy looked down before R could get a good look at him. “What’s your next class again?” 

The boy thought hard as he stared down at the crumpled sheet of paper in his hands. “Uh,” he started, “history with Mr. Eraqus. I think?” He squinted and then looked up at Riku, eyes shining. “Where to, then?” 

R’s stomach nearly left his body, the way it twisted and wrangled itself at the first glace of the boy’s face. He was new, there was no doubt about it, but such old news in his eyes. That nose and brow and those cheeks, even the hair—it was all so startlingly _ Vanitas _. 

“Uh. Vani?” R croaked, leaning off the lockers. “Who the hell is that?” His arm raised itself, finger pointed directly down the hall at the boy, who walked in between Riku and Kairi, shorter than both of them and snug between their athletic builds. Somehow, though, he seemed to fit right in. 

“What? Who are you—” Vanitas’s throat closed as he stared at the boy down the hall, all blue-eyed and brown-haired and skinned knees. It was him. The boy from his front porch. The boy who claimed to be his brother. _God, what was his fucking name again?_ _And why was he here, at Radiant Garden? _Vanitas stepped purposefully into the middle of the hall, Namine and R following him without explanation. They began to walk towards the other three slowly. “I have no idea,” he lied. “But I don’t fucking like him.” _That_ was the truth.

The two groups walked towards each other slowly, seemingly approaching each other for an old-fashioned duel. Their faces had all become tense, with the exception of the new boy, who just looked sick. Vanitas stood at the helm of his friends, hands tightly grasping either one’s sleeve. He needed them, just for that moment. 

“Why does he look so much like…” Namine trailed off, voice dying as they approached the other group. All their respective toes nearly touched. Three pairs of dirty combat boots faced off against sneakers. The brunet twisted his foot nervously underneath him and swallowed hard. Riku narrowed his eyes at his twin and Kairi cocked her head at Namine, just barely pushing a smile on to her face. 

“_R_,” Riku said slowly. The world around them seemed to halt. The other students had begun to clear the hall as the bells alarm grew nearer. The hall was become desolate, the perfect setting for a horrifyingly perfect moment. “I guess I never introduced you, or your friends—” He looked at Vanitas and Namine quickly, “to Sora.” 

_ Sora _. That was his name. Of course, the name to those eyes and that smile, the one that had burned all the way through Vanitas’s skin and bones and straight to his soul. He was staring at Vanitas now, mouth open and quivering. He couldn’t seem to speak. Swiftly, his face collapsed into its default grin and he waved at the three of them. 

“Riku and I are showing him around,” Kairi continued for him. Her sweet voice was a welcome one. It even nearly cut the tension, but nothing was ever strong enough to that. “It’s his first day! Well, it’s everyone's first day, but… it’s Sora’s first at Radiant Garden.” She laughed nervously and then flipped her hair behind her shoulder, glancing at Riku for solace. 

“Well, welcome,” Namine said. “I’m Namine. This is R and this is Vanitas.” 

Sora looked up slowly at Vanitas. “Hi,” he breathed. 

Vanitas just humphed and looked away. 

R watched Vanitas’s face for a moment and then glanced back at Sora’s. Something didn’t feel right, but he couldn’t muster the energy to deal with that now. He looked back at his brother. “Yeah, well. Make sure he doesn’t get in our way, Riku.” The anger that brewed in him just at the sight of Riku was enough to make him explode, but he kept it together. 

The bell rang, and the six teens all looked up at the same time, eyes shifting wearily to the bell down the hall. It shook and shouted at them. They couldn’t just stand here forever, making faces and empty threats at each other. Namine sighed. “C’mon, everyone. We’ve all got places to be.” She tugged at Vanitas’s arm but he didn’t budge, eyes still cast upward, empty and dark.

“She’s right,” Kairi said, and then turned to Riku and Sora, smiling with red cheeks. “I’ll see you two later!” Her wave was genuine and her words reassuring, and with that, she turned quickly and headed towards class, a pair of pom-poms peaking out from her backpack, shimmying with her every step. 

R cast one last fiery glare at Riku before huffing violently and shoving past him, knocking his shoulder hard as he walked away. Vanitas missed his warmth at his side. Namine was the next to leave, much to his dismay, but not without a comforting squeeze on his arm. Her eyes were confused but kind, and she left wordlessly.

“Um, Riku,” it was Sora. “I’ve actually got to use the bathroom. I think I can find my way to history. I'm sure they won't mind if I'm late on my first day. After that, we can meet for lunch!” His words were hurried and shaking in their presentation, but apparently convincing enough for the silver-haired boy to lurk away, nodding to the boy and then staring hard at Vanitas. 

“Problem?” Vanitas snarled. 

“Not at all,” Riku said calmly, and then entered the classroom down the hall. 

Sora looked as if he was going to puke and then darted away suddenly, turning rapidly into the boy’s bathroom. Vanitas cursed under his breath and then chased after him, shoving the door open with a flat palm angrily. As he entered, Sora turned and leaned against the sinks nervously, lower lip quivering. “Vanitas—” 

“Shut up!” Vanitas howled. He quickly checked all the stalls for other students and then rushed towards the entryway, shoving a pencil into the door's lock and fidgeting until he was satisfied. He whipped around toward Sora and stepped forward, fists clenched. “Who the hell are you? What the hell are you doing here!?” He slammed his fist down onto the sink counter, shaking. “Is this some kinda stupid fucking joke?"

“Stop! I—” Sora started, stopping to think. He looked Vanitas up and down, shaking his head nervously. “Listen." He held his arms out and moved away slowly. "And please really listen,” he begged. “Look at me. I’m going to tell the truth.” 

Vanitas stared at him. The boy cowered in his shadow. “You have thirty seconds.” 

Sora’s eyes widened with panic. “That’s ridiculous… I just.” 

“Twenty-five!” 

Sora yelped and then brought his arms close to his chest. He shivered, yet it had to be at least ninety degrees in that bathroom. He was quiet for a moment before looking up at Vanitas slowly. He took a deep breath. “March 28th.”

Vanitas felt the blood in his veins run cold. “What did you just say?” 

“March 28th, 1981,” Sora added. “That’s your birthday, isn’t it?”

Vanitas didn’t say anything, but his body relaxed. His fist unclenched and slinked its way into his pocket. He leaned against one of the stalls and let his lungs fill completely. He made a gesture for Sora to continue. 

“It’s mine, too,” Sora said. “Because we’re brothers, Vanitas. Twins. And ever since I turned eighteen I’ve been looking for you. And… well, you’re _ here _. So here I am, too.”

Vanitas tried to mask the fact that his mind was reeling. His stomach was turning. His throat was closing. He cleared it. “And why should I believe you for a second?”

Sora sighed. “You’re right. I don’t have any proof with me right now." He looked down sadly and then whipped his up, smiling wide. He reached for Vanitas. "But come to my house after school. You can meet mom and dad and they’ll tell you—”

“What!?” Vanitas exploded. His launched forward and grabbed Sora by the collar of his shirt, shaking him hard enough that his backpack went tumbling to the ground. Sora whimpered as he shook, tears beginning to spill down his cheeks in isolated, nervous streams. He scrambled to push against Vanitas’s chest, and his breaths were quick and panicked. “My mom and dad are dead. This is a fucking joke. You’re living with mom and dad, yeah? Yeah? You fucking—”

“Stop!” Sora shouted, yelping again as Vanitas shook him hard against the sinks. “Please, stop, just listen, Vanitas—”

“I’m done listening,” Vanitas hissed. Sweat beaded at his forehead and his heart felt like it was going to break through his chest. His legs felt weary beneath him, but he tightened his grip on Sora’s collar. “You’re just here to fuck with me, you piece of shit.” He let Sora go, and the boy wheezed as he crumbled to the floor, scrambling to grab his backpack. He grabbed it and pulled it close to his chest, kicking away from Vanitas and leaning against the wall, peering up at him with scared, hooded eyes. 

“Vanitas,” Sora whispered. “If you calm down, I can explain and everything will—”

“Just shut up.” Vanitas’s voice had become icy and unforgiving. He crouched down to Sora and shook his head slowly, struggling to catch his breath and find his words. He punched the ground hard in frustration, yelping. “Fuck!” He exclaimed, grabbing his bleeding knuckles immediately and glaring at Sora. “Who did you tell?” 

“What?” 

“Who did you tell!?” Vanitas repeated. “Does anyone know? That we’re related.” 

“Well, no,” Sora stated, “but they’re bound to—”

“No. Shit, you don’t shut up!” Vanitas shouted. He sounded like he was on the verge of tears, but he didn’t let it get the best of him. He sat on the ground in front of Sora, wiping the blood from his knuckles on his jeans every time it pooled. “Don’t tell anyone. Don’t even fucking think about it.”

Sora watched him nervously.

“And I want you out of here by tomorrow.” 

Sora narrowed his eyes. “What?” 

“You heard me,” Vanitas growled. “I don’t wanna see your fucking face. I hate it. I hate it so much. And I don’t want you fucking up my senior year just because someone put you up to some sick fucking prank or something.” 

Sora was silent for a long time. He didn’t meet Vanitas’s gaze and instead slowly unzipped and dug through his backpack. He was intent on finding something, but Vanitas couldn’t be sure what. He watched the other boy cautiously. He really did look like him.

But that was ridiculous. A lot of people looked like each other. This was just one of those things. And someone—Sora—had figured it out and taken advantage of it. 

Finally, Sora stopped his rummaging and pulled out a handful of bandaids. “I’m sorry, Vanitas,” he said, holding out the bandaids. They both watched the blood drip from Vanitas’s knuckles. Sora stretched his hand out even further, insisting that Vanitas take them. “I’m sorry, but I can’t leave. I just found you. I’m not leaving now.” 

Vanitas felt like he’d been punched. He stared at the bandaids. Sora was mocking him. He was condescending, offering bandaids like this and refusing to listen. Vanitas hated him so much. He slapped the bandaids from the boy's hand and stumbled to his feet. “Fine,” he growled. He looked in the mirror. He was visibly frazzled. His eyes looked wicked and his face couldn’t seem to untwist itself. His hair stuck to his temple with sweat. He shoved his bloody knuckles into his pocket and then spit hard at Sora’s feet. “If you won’t leave, I’ll make you.” 

And with that, Vanitas unlocked the bathroom door and went storming out into the hallway, leaving Sora to quiver alone in his carnage. Vanitas didn’t know what class he had now. He didn’t know what time it was or even what day it was. But he knew one thing. 

This was his senior year. This was his life. And he wasn’t about to let anyone stand in the way of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments of any kind feed me and my family! Please always let an author know you like their work or what they could do to improve it! We appreciate it so much! Thank you. 
> 
> See you in the next chapter.


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